


Non Semper Erit Aestas

by lonelywalker



Category: Traveler
Genre: M/M, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-23
Updated: 2011-04-23
Packaged: 2017-10-18 13:39:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/189442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lonelywalker/pseuds/lonelywalker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will watches.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Non Semper Erit Aestas

1.

Will watches.

It is May, and the coffee table is littered with exam schedules and Coke-stained lawbooks. Tyler Fog wanders in and out of frame, his pace purposeful, his movements jerky, cellphone at his ear. He flips hair out of his eyes like a petulant teenage model, and pouts.

Will's slouched, sprawled over the couch. But for one sneaker-clad foot sticking up, he might be the couch itself, all rumpled and soft and comfortable. They forget he's there, most of the time.

Jay dashes in from the street, his loafers slapping against the wooden floor, running to pick up a book. He waves at Tyler, and casts a cynical gaze at the camera as an afterthought. Jason Burchell: attorney-at-law.

Will rewinds, and plays.

 

2.

Will watches.

There's a sound of a closing door in the background, faint but audible, the scraping of wood against wood. In the foreground, there is water. Will's shoulders are braced against the bathroom door. In the absence of a tripod, it'll have to do.

He admires the blurring of it all. The confusion of sounds and images, all washed together behind the shower curtain.

A moan, or a cry of pain... Skin... Hands...

He feels like Hitchcock. It's all suggestion. But he feels it anyway.

A hand creeps to the stiff outline in his pants.

Will rewinds, and plays.

 

3.

Will watches.

The sweat on Jay's back is almost too perfect to be real. They'll never believe it.

Tyler's too pretty, head laid against the stark blackness of Jay's pubic hair. It might work better in monotone.

Will's erection, anticipated, unplanned, is breaking the flow of the film. Jay turns, and sees him.

"Don't you know," Will says, and his voice is choked, unrehearsed. "Don't you know you never look at the camera?"

Lips close over him. A cliffhanger effect.

Will rewinds, and plays.

 

4.

Will watches.

Fire licks the film, crumples the tapes. It will be monotone, then blurred, then utterly dark. A study in boredom Warhol would kill for.

There is a map by his fingertips, a route laid out in red magic marker.

It's all far too linear. But this is how it is.

There is laughter in the hallway, some shouted call from Jay. Will glances towards the door.

The evidence is gone. They will never piece these days together again.

It will be his great, lost masterpiece.

Will picks up his camera, and starts to record.


End file.
